


Portrait of a Seadweller

by sonnetstuck



Category: Homestuck, T. S. Eliot - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonnetstuck/pseuds/sonnetstuck
Summary: Let us watch the sea as it ferments and twists,O8serve the moonlight’s flames,Unpack the l8est game,And listen to the growls from deep 8elow,Until I say I really ought to go.
Based on Portrait of a Lady by T. S. Eliot. Originally posted on sonnetstuck.tumblr.com





	

I

Among the shadows of a seventh perigee’s midnight  
You have the evening 8oil down– as oftentimes it does–  
To “maybe wwe could talk awwhile just us”;  
And 8 wan glowpoles in his respite8lock,  
8 points of light down here, 8elow the tallest mast,  
The sound of waves that hit the 8lack rocks  
Prepared for all the dice to 8e cast, or left uncast.  
We’ve returned, if you will, from some o8scure campaign  
Of mild success, and now we trade jejune unpleasantries.  
“those fuckin rookie flarpers vvris dont think im vvain  
but they wwouldnt be fit to be my enemies  
i need a troll wwhos wworthy of my hate  
not some lowwblood scum wwholl just end up as bait”  
–And so the su8ject 8u88les up  
Despite how much you’re loath to give the matter thought  
And no matter how you may or may not feel,  
You know it’s something that you ought  
To conceal.

“theyre so goddamn important fuckin enemies  
its hard its hard wwhen searchin doesnt go as planned  
but you need you need to find the perfect chemistry  
and its hard but noww I think that… you maybe understand  
and feel the same  
i think an enemy should be a troll  
wwho hates you back  
and wwho wwould drivve your fuckin soul to black  
im sayin this because you get it too  
an enemy wwho sets your blood afire”  
And still I cannot tell just what I feel  
8ut the seas are fraught  
And I really ought  
To put aside my pride and make a deal.  
I sneer to feign malevolence, and 8are my fangs,  
Ignoring all the pangs  
That tell me may8e history was wrong.  
–Let us watch the sea as it ferments and twists,  
O8serve the moonlight’s flames,  
Unpack the l8est game,  
And listen to the growls from deep 8elow,  
Until I say I really ought to go.

II

I mentioned seashells last we talked;  
He now has 8owls of seashells in his 8lock  
And plays with one while pacing to and fro.  
“my enemy youre unawware youre unawware  
wwhat hate is you wwho find it all around”;  
(Stroking the seashell, sad and slow.)  
“you couldnt knoww howw rare it is howw rare  
and hate true hate wwill nevver fade to grey  
it turns its back on pity wwith disdain”  
I turn away  
And plan a new campaign.  
“yet fourteenth perigees dim light evvokes the mood  
of simple black intentions wwithout strings  
no complications just that vvicious primal pull  
to be hated and embroiled in a feud”

The voice fades out, like the fangless aural 8ite  
Of the static of the sea on a dry 8ut windy night:  
“you just fuckin get it i knoww you see  
my meaning fuckin knoww wwhat I mean  
thats wwhy this hates so strong for you and me

youre fuckin flawwless vvris a dangerous pirate queen  
wwell cull them all and wwhen its just me and you  
wwe wwill provve that its destiny its fuckin true

but im a fuckup im a fuckup my enemy  
wwhy are you wwith me wwhat shit can i bring  
only the hatred and the dumb gold rings  
of such a damn unwworthy tool as me

i shall sit and plan campaigns for enemies…

I stand to leave. How could I not have sympathy  
For such a pathetic thing?  
You can find me, when I’m not concocting schemes,  
Reading the journal of a certain troll.  
I see the pages in my dreams.  
The feuds, the lovers, treasures that she stole.  
The future and the past com8ined in one.  
A perfect inky romance on the seas.  
8ut now I think I’m done.  
They show nothing to me.  
Except, in the heat of 8attle, I sometimes catch a flash  
Of lightning and destruction in his eyes.  
And I think that may8e there could 8e something.  
8ut then it leaves. They’re just too far detached.  
So tell me, why do I still try?

III

The first perigee’s night falls hard, as it is prone to do,  
Except for the wet, soft footsteps I’m leaving in the sand.  
I clim8 those stairs I know too well (like you),  
And feel as if I am 8urdened with shackles ’round my hands.

“youre joinin another partner so wwhen wwill wwe twwo play  
fuck thats a stupid question  
its done betwween us right just say it straight  
it wwas bound to end this wway”  
My shrug’s indifferent, 8ut I feel an awful w8.

“but maybe just one more game”  
A tiny 8olt of anger a8ruptly stings me.  
I knew that he would get clingy.  
“i got to thinkin in the past feww days  
(dont fuckin presume that its just jealousy)  
wwhy wwe could nevver wwork as enemies”  
I feel like one who turns away to 8lock out what is shown,  
Desperately, like it’s something too exact.  
My self-esteem’s struck legless; we are really all alone.

“it seemed ordained that wwed be enemies  
dont fuckin laugh but I thought it wwas fate  
that brought us twwo together in this wway  
wwe wwill find some other hate  
one more game at any rate  
dont wworry i swwear ill wwait  
i shall sit and plan campaigns for enemies”

And I must scour every faded page  
To find direction… look, look  
In the looking glass,  
Scry like an augur, transl8 like a sage.  
Let us watch the sea, as it ferments and twists–  
Well! And what if he should snap some stormy night,  
Stormy night wet and 8loody, morning savage and cold,  
Should snap and leave me sitting guts in hand  
With my 8lood making puddles on his floor8oards,  
Pooled in a8stract figures;  
Not knowing if he’s mad or if this all was planned  
Or whether rage or courtship, passion or just spite…  
Would I not 8e the lucky one, after all?  
For history inverted is sweetest to recall  
Now that we talk of killing–  
And should he have the right to pull the trigger?


End file.
